Paying the Price
by MelancholyMonochrome
Summary: During the Battle of the Somme, France and England desperately try to fend off boredom, only to wind up in another one of their childish arguments... No Yaoi, just fluffy randomness, rated T for mature references


**Greetings and Salutations... Nah that doesn't work, I'll start again...**

**Konnichiwa! I'm Angel the Neko and this is my short oneshot based on the Battle of the Somme! This is what happens when I spend one too many History lessons fantasizing about Hetalia. **

**This story has no pairing, just some angry war allies. I will explain this all at the end for those who don't know about this battle, that way I can refresh my knowledge on it and get good grades ^^**

**Tanoshimu!**

* * *

><p>"It's been ages! I want to go and 'ave a look!" The French man complained.<p>

"Go ahead, you'll die as soon as you pop your head up." The other man muttered.

France sat down again, sighing loudly and dramatically. England had gotten a nearby stick and had begun drawing different things in the dirt. The two were extremely bored and it was obvious that the boredom was getting to France more than it was to England.

"Do you want to play cards again?" France asked.

"I'm bored of cards." England mumbled, eyes focused on his drawing.

"Well 'ow about you guess what number I am thinking?" France asked, a hint of annoyance and a trace of anger in his voice.

England immediately stopped drawing and looked up at the bored Frenchman. He stared into his deep blue eyes for a few seconds before saying:

"One."

"I did not say one to te-" France began.

"Sixty nine." England interrupted.

"'Ow did you-?"

"You're perverted."

France sighed once more, though this time it was more like a growl. He seated himself again and folded his arms, throwing his one leg over the other.

England just sat as he had before, sat on a small pile of sandbags, hand rested on his cheek and his arm positioned on his knee. He stared from one corner, to the next, to the one after that before proceeding to draw again. He continued to draw in the dirt in a bored sort of fashion and France watched.

The Englishman had drawn their current position. Two trenches separated by a small gap of land and several bombs being aimed at the one side. However, on this one trench England had also drawn a serious-looking blond haired man sitting in the deep dugout of his trench. Infuriated by the mere cartoon version of this annoying event, he began to cross this all out with the stick, unconsciously being very aggressive as he scribbled it out.

Suddenly the stick snapped and, like the stick, so too did England's patience snap. He stood up and shot a glare at France who was still sitting with an annoyed scowl in the darkest corner of the dugout.

"SHUT UP FRANCE!" England roared.

France unfolded his arms and the scowl on his face darkened.

"I did not say any-" France began.

"I know what you're thinking! I can hear your smug froggy comments loud and clear!" England yelled.

"You think zis is any easier for me? Ze boredom is getting to me too Angleterre!" France snapped, standing up to match England's height.

"Maybe we wouldn't BE in this position if you hadn't been so bloody impatient!"

"Ze date 'ad to be rescheduled! Ze losses at Verdun were too much for me to 'andle!"

"I wanted to attack later but _noo_! You wanted to bring the date of the battle forward by a whole bloody month!"

"So you place ze blame of zis 'ole mess on me?"

"Exactly the point, froggy!"

* * *

><p>"Zey're fighting again..." Germany growled.<p>

Germany waited in silence. There was no-one in the trench but him. It was rather lonesome and usually he never let that get to him but it was a very long battle and it was hard to cope with over such a long period of time.

"I'm glad zat ve managed to avoid dying but I vish zat our trenches weren't so close." Germany sighed.

It was painfully true, their trenches were so close that most of the time, because Germany spent his time in silence, he could hear their constant childish bickering and noisy yelling

"I kind of vish zat zey vould stop fighting already..."

* * *

><p>"Wine loving tool!" England yelled.<p>

"Black sheep of Europe!"

The battle of verbal abuse had been raging for a few minutes now but France had just made it all cease with his last comment. England hated being called the black sheep of Europe: knowing that you were a disgrace to the area that you wanted to call home was very hurtful and it cut him deeply.

England slumped back into his pile of sandbags looking slightly depressed and put out by the deep cutting comment that France had made. France sat back down and his expression calmed.

"Sorry Angleterre, zat was cruel of me." France apologised.

"No..." England muttered. "That outburst wasn't very gentlemanly. I'm sorry."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, though it wasn't boredom that created it. There was such an awkward air about the room that it didn't feel right to speak any further.

"It was a lot better when Canada was here..." England whispered.

"Who?" France asked jokingly.

Then they laughed together at the expense of the forgettable Canadian. France knew who he was really but since everyone seemed to forget him it had become a sort of running joke between the two.

"Want to play cards?" France asked.

"Sure, why not?" England shrugged his shoulders.

* * *

><p>"I win!" France declared.<p>

"What? No you don't!" England yelled.

"In my country, I 'ave."

"In your country it's filled with wine loving tools like yourself!"

"Pardon moi? Zis coming from ze excessive tea drinker sitting before me?"

"It's better than drinking and getting drunk on liquor constantly!"

"Better zan not being able to 'old your liquor!"

"I can hold it better than you Frenchie!"

"Zat's rich!"

"I'm richer than you are, frog!"

* * *

><p>"Again vith ze fighting..." Germany growled.<p>

Germany sighed heavily as he listened to the sounds of their yells and the battle of quick-witted insults. Having to put up with it through most of the day and sometimes late hours of the night got really frustrating for Germany.

But... As painful as it was, the sounds of their yells were the only forms of comfort that could be brought to the poor German. Their sounds entertained him in a trench that was heavily lacking in any forms of fun or entertainment. Even though Germany wasn't a very fun or loving person on the outside, in the times where he had no form of entertainment or anything resembling a conversation he truly longed for company.

"I svear if zey keep at it I'm going to-"

But then Germany stopped. What could he do? Nothing. They were in a stalemate situation. If Germany got up to charge at their trench then he'd immediately be shot down by either France or England. The same went for them too. If they tried even setting so much as one foot outside their trench then Germany would instantly (and happily) shoot them down.

All Germany could do was wait and let the boredom get to him. And when it did get to him? He would have no-one to vent to. Just the wide, deep room that was his dugout.

* * *

><p>Back with France and England, things were a lot quieter. They had stopped yelling, too tired to carry on. Fighting was useless after all since they'd be spending what looked like the next few months with just each other's company.<p>

"Sorry Angleterre." France apologised.

"I'm sorry too." England muttered.

"Zis was all my fault. I shouldn't 'ave charged into zis a month earlier." France explained.

"Well I shouldn't have been so cocky. I mean did you see how slowly we walked across that battlefield?"

"Guess we all make mistakes."

"Yes... And now we have to pay for them. I truly am sorry old friend."

"Apology accepted. I can only 'ope zat you will accept mine in return."

"Of course I can."

The two sat in miserable silence once more, eyes both drifting from one corner, to the next, to the one after that. This would be their daily routine for the next few months: arguing, apologising, getting angry again and then regretting.

"So 'ow long d'you reckon we'll be doomed to spend 'ere?" France asked.

"Weeks, maybe months. We are in a stalemate after all." England pointed out.

"Great. Ze next few months in your sucky company, how uplifting."

"It's not like it's any different over here Francey-pants."

"We told ze others zat we'd be 'ome by Christmas... Guess zat didn't pan out well..."

"Guess not..."

* * *

><p><strong>This ended up a lot sadder than I expected it to be... Poor Germany, and France and England.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Anyway the Battle of the Somme had two trenches, one for France and England and the other for Germany. The first few days was spent bombing Germany, just to be sure that they'd got him. When the bombardment ceased, England's army (though also containing regiments from our sweet little Canada) marched very slowly towards the German tench only to find that Germany hsd survived by hiding in his very deep dugout.<strong>

**Since they had been there a long time, the Germans had very deep dug out rooms underground (dugouts) and managed to survive the bombing. From then on they both kept watch in their trenches. Most of Canada's Newfoundland Regiment was wiped out, explaining his absence in this story. If you did so much as put your head up to see what the enemy was doing then they would shoot you.**

**That is what caused the stalemate. They were evenly matched and so most of this battle was spent in boredom. They did things like play cards and kick rats into the air and watch them be blown to bits by the other side. Some trenches were so close that you could hear the other side. These trenches ran all the way down to the neutral Switzerland.**

* * *

><p><strong>So there you have it! R&amp;R, check out my other fanfictions and...<strong>

**Sayonara minna-san!**

**~Neko**


End file.
